This is long, sorry.
I know it sounds like I’m bragging and I apologize, but I really love my body. Yes, I know that I am overweight, have age spots, gray hair, and big feet. I just need to let it be known, that I don’t care. Every time I see my faults in the mirror, I am aware of them, and I know that I am still a work in progress and need to keep in shape so I can enjoy this body for the rest of my life. But, still, I remind myself of all the things this mortal, fleshy, bag of holding (Dungeons & Dragons pun), has gotten me through.
It has pulled me through working since I was 15 until I could no longer work. It saw me through 5 mile runs while I was in basic training in the army, Hiking through mountain trails while carrying 20+ pounds of cleaning supplies every day in the San Bernardino mountains. It helped me get through many graveyard shifts, standing 8 hours a day, while working in fast food on hard, tile floors. It allowed me to clean toilets, wash dishes, change diapers, and bend over to clean the oven for over 50 years.
It made it possible to bring two amazing people into existence and give birth to them, as well as one angel baby that I never got to know personally outside of the womb. It stayed mentally strong while I said goodbye to my mother and father, as well as my husband who I got to spend 34 years beside. It allowed me take care of that wonderful man while he made the transition to the next phase of existence.
My body made it through all the changes I put it through; the times I lost and gained back pounds, the fast food I gleefully chucked into it, the stress and muscle soreness, sunburns, surgeries, and sleepless nights. It slept in beds that were broken down, car seats, and couches where my neck was crinked. It paced the floor holding squalling babies (and then, thankfully, sleeping babies). It rocked back and forth while dealing with nausea after being forced to overdo it. It held and supported my husband when he was unable to walk and needed a hand.
Sure, it’s pudgy and sore, but it deserves my love and care. I am disabled and on disability so that I can give back to it, some of what it gave to me. Love.
It has pulled me through working since I was 15 until I could no longer work. It saw me through 5 mile runs while I was in basic training in the army, Hiking through mountain trails while carrying 20+ pounds of cleaning supplies every day in the San Bernardino mountains. It helped me get through many graveyard shifts, standing 8 hours a day, while working in fast food on hard, tile floors. It allowed me to clean toilets, wash dishes, change diapers, and bend over to clean the oven for over 50 years.
It made it possible to bring two amazing people into existence and give birth to them, as well as one angel baby that I never got to know personally outside of the womb. It stayed mentally strong while I said goodbye to my mother and father, as well as my husband who I got to spend 34 years beside. It allowed me take care of that wonderful man while he made the transition to the next phase of existence.
My body made it through all the changes I put it through; the times I lost and gained back pounds, the fast food I gleefully chucked into it, the stress and muscle soreness, sunburns, surgeries, and sleepless nights. It slept in beds that were broken down, car seats, and couches where my neck was crinked. It paced the floor holding squalling babies (and then, thankfully, sleeping babies). It rocked back and forth while dealing with nausea after being forced to overdo it. It held and supported my husband when he was unable to walk and needed a hand.
Sure, it’s pudgy and sore, but it deserves my love and care. I am disabled and on disability so that I can give back to it, some of what it gave to me. Love.
